


Makin' Magic Happen

by NaughtySammyBoy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Porn, Come Eating, Come play, Cunnilingus, F/M, Just straight filth, Oral Sex, Sam and Reader are pornstars so..., Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 16:45:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11040201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaughtySammyBoy/pseuds/NaughtySammyBoy
Summary: You get to work with Sammy Winchester for the first time, Mr. Big Cock Super Star





	Makin' Magic Happen

**Author's Note:**

> This is the prelude to a series I'm currently working on, so hang on to your panties and enjoy!

You walk on set in your typical fashion—hair tied up in a messy bun, prescription glasses resting on the bridge of your nose, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt with a grande latte with double espresso in your freshly manicured hand. Part of you dreads how long the day is going to be with shooting and scene preparation, while the other part buzzes with excitement.

“You ready for your scene today?” Penny, your agent, asks, face glowing with just as much excitement. You give her an enthusiastic smile and a quick nod. “Good,” she smiles back, hands coming up to grab at your shoulders, her deep green eyes catching yours. “Sammy’s the best in the business. I hear his cock’s insured for a million dollars.”

“That seems a bit drastic,” you murmur before finishing off your latte.

Penny just smiles warmly. “You’ll see dear,” she pats your shoulders. “I can guarantee you won’t be faking any orgasms for the camera today.”  
  
“Don’t write checks you can’t cash, Pen,” you say wryly, giving her a playful wink.  
  
“Now you know my checks are always good, honey,” she chuckles, swatting your ass before shoving you towards the makeup and hair department. “Go get ready,” she commands with a cheeky wink. “Sammy should be arriving in a few hours.”  
  
“Aye, aye, Captain!” You call out without looking back at her as you fake salute.  
  
Tiffany pushes you down into her chair with a smile on her lips, blonde hair bouncing as she practically vibrates with excitement. She’s been your hair and makeup girl since you entered to industry, and she damn well qualifies as one of your best friends.   
  
“Have you seen who you get to romp with today?” She gushes as she removes your glasses and hands you a contacts case. You chuckle as you pop your lenses in, listening to her ramble on about the dashing and horse-hung Sammy Winchester. “He’s, like, the God of porn, ya know,” she sighs as she wipes your face down with witch-hazel pads. “It’s crazy to me that you’re only now doing a scene with him. I mean, you’ve been in this industry—what? Eight years now?”  
  
“Ten,” you correct her with a smile, shrugging when you say, “But who’s counting.”  
  
Ten years. Fuck, that seemed like forever.   
  
You joined the adult entertainment industry right out of your second year of college as a nineteen-year-old looking for money. However, success didn’t come easy—you had to sleep with dudes who didn’t have a clue at first, shooting in low-budget or no-budget-at-all-actually films and sketchy basements for the first year in the biz. After you won your first AVN—the favorite newcomer award for the film _College Girls XXX_ —you became a household name.   
  
Well, as household as you can get for a porn star.   
  
After Tiffany finishes you up, you head over to wardrobe, where you’re handed an expensive lingerie set and a pair of tasteful stilettos. You wash up a bit in the bathroom before getting dressed, making sure you clean and fresh for the scene. You’re still a bit tender from getting a full body wax the day before, but that’s just a small price to pay compared to the pretty penny you’re getting for this scene—which is easily in the four-figures range considering your pedigree in the industry.  
  
Once you’re donned in pricey lace and silk and hosiery and said hosiery clips, you slip on the bathrobe you usually wore before a scene; a short satin number that had your name embroidered on the left breast panel in fancy cursive—your real name, not your stage name.  
  
You don’t put on the stilettos just yet, because you’d rather not have achey feet before filming even begins. And just as Tiffany touches up the powder on your nose and forehead, Penny comes traipsing to you with glee in her eyes and a smile full of mischief that makes you a bit nervous.  
  
“He’s here!” She sing-songs. “And great _fuck_ , he is even _more_ good-looking in person.”  
  
You wouldn’t know—you’ve never met or bothered to goggle the guy; because in your opinion, it killed any real first impression. And if there was any hope of you getting truly wet and turned on without lube or finger-play, the first impression was the key.  
  
A strong, honey-thick voice sounds from behind, greeting the crew and expressing his excitement for the scene with Penny, who’s all squeaky and over-enthusiastic as she speaks. You don’t turn right away, mainly due to the fact that Tiffany is fussing with your hair and trying to perfect the false eyelashes she glued to your lids with _extra_ strong eyelash-glue.  
  
“Holy shit,” she says under her breath, eyes now trained over your shoulder as she mindlessly fluffs your big, bouncy-curled hair. “You lucky bitch,” she whispers to you with a devious smirk.  
  
You only turn when someone taps on your shoulder with a gentle finger—and _fuck me_ when you do—you’re met with a strong, tight-T covered chest and have to crane your neck to look up and see a smooth, goldenly-tanned neck that trails up to an even more perfect face. His eyes are a myriad of blues, greens, and honey gold, his nose angular and sharp, and his lips a sweet mass of pink plushness that make your own twitch in interest.  And… _fuck_ —  
  
“You—You’re… _large_ ,” you sputter stupidly as you look him up and down with wide eyes, his built, massive body dwarfing yours significantly. Tiffany cackles behind you, but you ignore her as you look up into the Adonis’ eyes.  
  
“Thank you,” he nods with a low, easy laugh. “I guess,” he adds with a raise of an eyebrow, more question in his voice than anything. “Sam Winchester,” he greets with a dimpled grin, holding out a hand that is ridiculously proportional to the rest of him. “Well, Sammy—if you’d rather use my stage name.”  
  
“Hi,” you reply, giving him a shaky smile as you place your hand in his. “Y/N,” you supply, “but um, my stage name’s Violet. Violet Domoore.”  
  
“Well, Y/N,” he smirks attractively, bringing your hand up to place a sweet, gentle kiss across the knucles before saying, “I’ll use your real name behind the scenes. If you don’t mind, that is.”  
  
“N-No,” you stammer moronically. “I don’t mind at all.”  
  
“Good,” he smiles. “Well, I should go get ready for our scene,” he says after a long span of time where you just stare at each other. “I hear I get to be a cutthroat business man coming home to his wife after a long day at the office. Fake glasses and briefcase and all.”  
  
“Marvelous,” you grin, your confidence finally making its appearance. “I’ll see you in a few, then?  
  
“Absolutely,” he nods, shamelessly looking you up and down as a seductive grin pulls at his lips. “You look incredible, by the way.”  
  
Before you can reply, he gracefully spins on his heels and heads for the wardrobe and beauty station—as if the man really _needs_ more beauty. You’re left breathless, which is rare in your profession, because typically the guys you do on camera are cocky, arrogant, and just all around assholes for no reason; only interested in a wet hole to put their less than impressive cocks. _Subpar_ , you could say. But Sam—Sam seemed gentlemanly, and sweet, and very much concerned with a woman’s pleasure as much as his own—if not more so—and if his hand was proportional enough to his massive body, then the rumors about his horse-hung cock being insured for a steamy million dollars is absolutely, one hundred percent true. And, fuck, if you weren’t ready to see it.  
  
Yep, you were definitely turned on.  
  
Later on, Donovan, a seasoned porn-flick director who was known for doing amazing scenes, asks for a moment to talk with you and Sam. So, here you were, clad in only scanty but beautiful lingerie, stockings, and stilettos, standing beside Sam, who’s rocking the fuck out of a full suit and tie combo and a pair of fake glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.   
  
“So, before we get started; I just wanted to run through the list of things that may occur and see if the two of you are cool with it,” he says without looking up from the clipboard in his hands, running his finger down the pages in front of him. “Okay, so Sam’s known to be a bit dominant in scenes,” Donovan tells you in a casual voice, as if he’s discussing toppings on a pizza rather than the sexual prowess of a man. “Are you cool with light choking, hair pulling, spanking, and all that kind of stuff? If not, Sam can surely tone it down a bit.”  
  
“I’m fine with all that,” you reply, your throat dry. “But the choking—what do you mean by light?”  
  
“Just a hand on the throat but not nearly enough pressure to cut off oxygen,” Sam answers for him, his voice a bit shy. “I don’t like cutting off a girl’s ability to moan for filming purposes and since this isn’t a _real_ BDSM scene. So, I just place my hand on her throat enough to give off the effect.”  
  
“Would you like for Sam to demonstrate before we get into filming?” Donovan asks, a warm smile on his face. “Just so you can decide yes or absolutely not.”  
  
“S-Sure,” you nod, glancing between Sam and Donovan before fully turning towards Sam, chin lifted enough to expose the length your neck. You suck in a quick pull of air when Sam brings his hand up and gently closes it around your throat, his thumb pressing into the hinge of your jaw as the fingers on the opposite side press in just enough to get the hint but not cut off air, the web between his thumb and forefinger fitted to the underside of her chin where it meets your neck.  
  
“Does that feel okay?” Sam asks in a soft voice, genuine concern flashing though his eyes as they look into yours for assurance. “Do you feel comfortable with it?”  
  
“Mhmm,” you keenly hum with a nod, since the ability to form _actual_ words has suddenly escaped you and has instead translated into wetness pooling between your thighs. “You won’t cut of my oxygen at all though, right?” You ask in a small voice, “Because that kind of freaks me out.”  
  
“I don’t do anything a woman doesn’t want me to,” Sam reassures you, grinning as he caresses the hinge of our jaw with his thumb, his hand still in place at your throat. “I only enjoy it of she’s enjoying it as well. I try to make her pleasure the main focus of a scene, since the targeted demographic of scenes like this are typically male. Plus, it’s always been fun to make a girl come as much as possible during the scenes I do.”  
  
“What’s your usual quota on that?” You smile at him, trailing your fingers down his forearm, the soft hair there ticking your fingertips.  
  
Sam chuckles lightly, moving his hand down your neck to smooth it across your shoulder, his fingers slipping under the thin strap of your expensive push-up bra. “It’s usually three,” he answers with a smirk, his eyes smoldering with arousal. “But for you? I’ll see if we can well surpass that number.”  
  
“All _that_ just for _me_?” You gush dramatically, denying the urge to grab his face and kiss the life out of him.  
  
“Just for you,” he agrees, leaning in to drop a short but sweet peck to your cheek. “And my earlier comment still stands,” he says as he steps back enough to look you up and down shamelessly. “Although now, the word incredible seems not _nearly_ enough now that you’re not wearing a robe.”  
  
“So what word _would_ be enough?” You question with lust in your eyes.  
  
“Drop dead gorgeous,” Sam grins.  
  
“That’s three words,” you grin back, a soft laugh puffing past your lips.  
  
“The more the better, I always say,” he winks, giving you another dimpled grin before disappearing somewhere on set.  
  
Then and there, you decide that if you don’t fuck Sammy Winchester sometime in the next hour—you might just keel over from being too horny.  
  
It takes another forty-five painstakingly slow minutes for the camera and light crew to finish setting up and making sure everything’s running smoothly. Tiffany touches up your makeup and fusses with your hair a bit more, adding some extra hairspray—even though it probably won’t last long after you start the scene.  
  
“Okay, super star,” Penny says as she walks up to you. “We’re gonna do a couple test shots with you posing on the couch; so remember—pretty and sexy, not too much, but enough.”  
  
“Yes, ma'am,” you smile and follow her onto the scene set, which is fashioned to look like an upscale living room decorated with all pristine white and ivory. You settled on the white, fake-leather couch that’s been modified enough to not make those disgusting sounds when you move about on it, which you are immensely thankful for.  
  
You pose for a few pictures that will be added to the website the film will be uploaded to, which you need a paid membership for to view the full length of. The camera man politely orders you to do various poses, some racy and some elegant, and you can sense Sam somewhere on the sidelines watching, a prominent smirk unmoving on his face, pants growing tighter as he watches you work.  
  
Penny and Donovan talk excitedly and encourages you as you pose, making you smother a giddy smile—because you fucking love compliments and you’re not ashamed of it. You work hard to look good, and are one of the few female porn stars left with natural _everything_.   
  
“Okay!” Donovan claps his hands and rubs his palms together. “Let’s start shooting!” He turns towards Sam. “Sam, you’re gonna come in a few minutes after she starts playing with herself. Just jump in when you’re ready.“   
  
You see Sam nod in agreement before turning his attention back to you, giving you a big smile and a thumbs up before crossing his arms over his chest. You smile back and then watch the guy with the clapperboard walk on set, ready to designate the beginning of the scene. You recline back on the couch in a relaxed pose, your legs crossed attractively with your hands rested beside you, your fingers smoothing over the softness of the leather beneath you.  
  
“Everyone quite on set!” Donovan shouts, seated in the director’s chair behind the table with various motors that display various angles of filming. “And…action!”  
  
“Scene one, take one!” Clapper guy calls out, closing the clapperboard so a sharp _slap!_ rings out. Once he’s moved, a camera rolls in closer to you, and you give it a show, making sure it catches all the ways you lightly touch yourself starting at your chest, your fingers tracing all the curves and swells of your body as you bite down into your bottom lip, your eyes trained on the camera like you know Donovan wants.  
  
Music usually plays over this portion of a film so Donovan directs you a bit from behind his perch. “Good, Y/N. Now slowly trail a hand down your body until it’s between your thighs,” he says. “Good girl. Now spread your legs and lift your knees and give the camera those gorgeous kitten eyes.” You do as your told, feeling sexy and confident. “Perfect, gorgeous! Now play with yourself over your panties, then slip your hand inside once you’re good and worked up.”  
  
You hold back the cheeky comment of _no problem_ , following Donovan’s instructions. You press your fingertips into the sodden material of your thong, gasping and letting your eyes flutter shut as you toy with your throbbing clit. After you grow tired of that, you slowly pull your panties to the side with your free hand, using the other to slide a single finger through your slick folds, opening yourself up for the camera guy as he closes in on you to get an intimate close-up shot.  
  
“Damn, girl!” Donovan calls out with a chuckle. “That’s good! Just like that!”  
  
You moan as you slide a finger into yourself, testing to see how wet you really are, and you’re not surprised to find that you are completely soaked. You tip your head back a bit, your mouth open in a soft gape as you gently thrust your finger in and out, the sound emitting from between your thighs entirely obscene.  
  
There’s a camera between your legs and one in your face, catching every little thing. You don’t startle when you feel extra weight press in beside you—because you know it’s Sam. You slowly open your eyes to meet his as he lays out next to you, his strong hand coming out to run up the inside of your thigh. You give him a seductive smile as you pull your fingers out of yourself, slyly bringing them up to his lips, and you breathe a little giggle when he immediately drops his jaw and juts it forward to take your fingers between his lips, his hot tongue rolling between the two to lick away the slickness that’s coating them.  
  
Sam hums as he sucks them clean, his hooded eyes locked on yours, his hand slowly inching up your thigh until it’s tucked between your thighs, taking the place of your own to rub your clit and slide through your folds. There’s no script for this, so when Sam says, “God, you’re so fucking wet,” out of nowhere, you moan wantonly and pull him in for a hot kiss. You get one hand on the back of his neck as the other trails down his body, until it’s covering the impressive bulge concealed by the borrowed slacks he’s wearing.  
  
“Remember to watch for hands, guys,” Donovan reminds you, not looking away from the monitors in front of him, a proud smile on his face when he adds, “Don’t hide the good stuff.”  
  
You heed his reminder, pulling your hand away from Sam and watching through hooded eyes as he moves down to the floor on his knees, his wide shoulders holding your legs apart for the camera. “You want me to eat your pussy?” He questions smoothly, a devilish smirk on his lips as he easily pushes two fingers into you. You cry out at the stretch, eagerly nodding your head as you bring your hands up to grab at the back of the couch, slipping down a bit so your ass is hanging off the edge.  
  
Sam presses kisses across your lower belly as he closes your legs long enough to get your panties off, his big hands hooking under your knees once they’re gone and opening you back up, his hungry mouth diving in without any teasing at all. “Oh, _fuck_ ,” you say in response, your body arching as Sam skillfully tongues at your clit, his head teetered to the side just a bit so the camera’s got a good shot of what he’s doing. “Oh, fuck yeah,” you moan, pulling a hand away a from the couch to run it though his lengthy hair. “Just like that,” you say in a breathy rasp as you watch him.  
  
Sam’s truly enjoying himself—you can tell by the way he moans and growls between your thighs. He has you on the cusp of a true orgasm before you’ve even had time to think about it, his tongue reaching areas not a lot of guys know to pay attention to. “Keep goin’, baby,” you tell him, “I’m gonna come.”  
  
Sam moans low in response, the vibration of it and the way he sucks your clit making for a near-lethal combination. You use one hand to grab up under one knee to further open yourself up, using the other to fist Sam’s hair, moans and cries falling from your parted lip as you writhe and watch Sam eat on you. You come hard moments later, whimpering and keening and arching with the intensity of it, utterly lost in the rippling heat that trails behind it.  
  
Sam works you through it, not letting up until he’s satisfied with the mess he’s made of you. He licks up through your folds to get a tongue load of slick, groaning deep and happy at the taste. “Fuck yeah, baby,” you breathe out with a lazy smile on your lips. Sam pulls away with a similar smile, swiftly working his way back up to your mouth to pull you in for a hungry kiss.  
  
After a few moments of delicious making out, Donovan says, “Alright, great work, you two! Let’s move on to the blowjob scene.“   
  
Sam stands as you slide off the couch to kneel in front of him, shrugging off his suit jacket and loosening the tie as your fingers work open his belt. You look up at him through blackened lashes, a salacious grin on your lips as you unzip and tug the slacks down to reveal a commando cock, one that’s hard and long and thicker than you’ve ever worked with before. “Fuck,” you say under your breath as you wrap your hand around the girth, looking right up into Sam’s eyes when you purr, “You’re so fucking big, Sammy.”  
  
He smirks down at you, the hand farthest away from the camera’s shot running through your silken locks as you lean forward to tease the redden tip with your tongue. He moans softly as you quickly twirl around the crown, lips parted in want as he watches you. You hum at the flavor of him, happy with heady taste of skin that can only be described as decadent indulgence. Your mouth waters around him when you take the first few inches into your mouth, a happy little sound working its way up your throat as you pull back off him with a playful pop.  
  
Sam gives way to a long groan when you take his cock in again, this time going until he’s nestled in your throat. You take a short second to be proud of yourself when your nose pushes up against the thatch of hair at the base, throat bobbing around a smothered gag. You pull back breathless, spit-slick lips smacking as you bring a hand up to stroke the length him, your tongue eagerly running circles around the tip to lap up the bead of precum that appears.  
  
Sam breathes out deeply through his nose as his big hand wraps around yours where it’s gripping the girthy base of his cock, playfully slapping the head against your rolled out tongue. You moan at the feeling of the weight repeatedly meeting your wet muscle, eyes trained on his as you roll your hips and rare your ass back against nothing but the cool air of the room. 

With your hands wrapped around the front of his flexing thighs, you suck him back into your mouth, humming when he tangles his hands in your hair to get a good grip. He thrusts his hips forward, fucking into your throat a couple of times before popping himself free again, letting out a murmured _fuck yeah_ as you pant for him, mouth pink and open as a trail of spit falls from your swollen bottom lip. He runs a thumb over it before allowing you to suck the finger clean, a grin forming on his face when you playfully nibble at the end.  
  
Sam grabs under your arm with his free hand, drawing you back up to your feet to claim your mouth with a hungry kiss, his tongue a dominant force when it slides between your parted lips. You strip his cock with a loose grip for the camera, moaning into his mouth when he gets a hand between your thighs to toy with your clit. 

“Fuck me,” you breathe, swiping your tongue along the meat of his bottom lip.  
  
Sam grabs your hips, turning you around the face the couch and pushing you down into it until your chest is thrown over the back of it, stocking-clad knees spread far apart on the leather to leave you widely exposed to all eyes in the room. You give way to a whimper full of impatience, shaking your ass and digging your fingernails into the leather clutched in your hands. Sam presses a knee into the couch behind you, one hand wrapped around his cock to lazily stroke and the other coming forward to grab a handful of your ass, squeezing the fleshiest portion before pull pulling it back again, completely surprising you when he strikes you with a heavy, sharp slap that stings like the dickens.  
  
“Yes, baby!” You gasp, turning to look at him over your shoulder. He bites at his bottom lip, leaning in to nose at the space behind your ear as he presses the head of his cock into your waiting pussy, a hot gush of air leaving his mouth as he paces himself, slowly slipping all the way inside until his hips are flush with your ass.   
  
“Well damn,” Donovan says to Penny in a low voice behind the scenes, a look of pride on his face as he watches the monitors in front of him. “I guess there’s no need for a director after all.“   
  
“They’re seasoned vets, Don,” Penny chuckles, “Just enjoy the show and watch the magic happen."   
  
Back on set, Sam’s started up a steady pace that has you rolling your ass back against him to chase the pleasure that runs hot through your blood, breathy moans leaving your open mouth. He’s got one hand wrapped around the back of your neck and the other on your hip, effectively holding you in place as he delivers thrust after mind-numbing thrust of his impossibly talented hips. There’s a few cameras closer around you now, getting different angles and perspectives; his cock entering and leaving your weeping cunt, his face as he looks down to watch himself disappear, and yours as you take it all.  
  
He’s hitting all the right spots, spots that only few and far between can hit with their cocks. The quickness in which your second orgasm approaches has your thighs trembling, the nonsensical sounds falling from your mouth growing louder and more frequent. It feel so freeing, getting fucked so good that you’ll more than likely feel it in the morning; in the form of sore thighs and a tender, totally cock-happy cunt.  
  
You come hard, rearing back into Sam, frantically chasing the waves crashing around inside your body. You scream expletives, reaching back to get a hand in his hair and pulling so roughly that Sam has to bite down onto your shoulder to mask that pained groan that vibrates in his throat. Usually that would be a no-no, but you’re so lost in bliss that the feel of his teeth sinking into your flesh has your orgasm lasting a bit longer, and you simply can’t be bothered to give a damn if it leaves a nasty mark.  
  
You’re left in a total haze when Sam pulls out and takes a seat beside you, limbs feeling heavy as you quickly climb into his lap, so needy for more of him as you sink back down onto his still-hard cock. You press your hands against his chest and rock your hips, looking down into his eyes, the inky blackness of his pupils totally eclipsing the bright pools of hazel surrounding them. He looks back just as intensely, totally debauched and hungry, hands like vices on your hip and ass as you move above him with purpose.   
  
You gasp sharply when he gets a hand on your chest, roughly tugging down each cup of delicate lace covering your breasts one after the other. You ignore the little rips of fabric you hear as he does, too enthralled by the way he gets his mouth around one of your peaked nipples, sucking and nibbling, worshipping your chest in every sense of the word. Everything feels so good, so heightened, that number three won’t be any sort of a challenge. Not with the way Sam feels inside you and how well your clit rubs against the coarse hair at that base of his cock with every down stroke of your hips.  
  
This is the moment you love; when you forget all about the cameras and lights and extra bodies around you. When it’s just you and the person you’re shooting with. It’s just you and Sam, lost in the thick of pleasure and carnal desire, so focused on each other that it doesn’t even feel like you’re the stars of a porno, or that there are millions of people around the world who are going to watch this very moment. It’s the moment in the biz that you crave, that rare moment that makes taking your clothes off and fucking people on camera worth it.   
  
When Sam grabs your ass and forces you to still your hips, whatever moan of loss is lost on your lips when he starts pounding up into you. You press your hands back on his wide-spread knees, letting your head fall back as your body arches so beautifully above him. Sam’s cursing colorfully through clenched teeth, running a hand up the curvature of your torso until he’s pinching at one of your nipples so tightly your hips jerk through the pained pleasure that comes along with it. And once he moves down to thumb at your buzzing clit—you’re a _goner_ —hips jerking for another reason entirely as your eyes cross in their sockets.  
  
"Fuck yeah, baby,” Sam murmurs as he watches you come undone, “Come all over my fucking cock. _Yes_. Just like that. _That’s_ a good girl."   
  
"Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmy _god_ ,” you chant, falling forward onto his chest and pressing your forehead against his, nose smooshed right up along his, fingers shaky were they card through his hair as you breathe erratically against his mouth through slack-fallen lips. You’re still coming when Sam wraps his arms around your waist and gets you down onto your back, cock still pounding away inside you as you lay out and take it, so high and come-drunk that you’re not even sure if the words of praise leaving your mouth make sense.   
  
“Can’t s-stop coming,” you hear yourself say in a quiet rasp, looking up at Sam as a sob of pleasure leaves you. He growls in pleasure, placing a hand around your throat and devouring your mouth in a filthy, uncoordinated kiss. All the pleasure just melds together, leaving you clueless as to whether you’re having one long orgasm, or just a bunch of little ones right after the other. 

All you know it that you’re breathless and getting fucked better than you ever have before.   
  
Sam’s powerful body moves so skillfully above you, long hair curling at the ends from how much he’s sweating. Heat rolls off him in waves, covering you in warmth and your own sheen a sweat, skin glistening in the film lights surrounding you. Sam keeps his eyes on yours, unhindered lust so intensely evident in his gaze. His breathing gets deeper, rougher, and you know he’s close, waiting for the right moment to give the camera-worthy pop shot every director dreams of.   
  
“Give it to me, baby,” you say to him, low enough for only him to hear, such intimacy in your voice—the kind that can’t be faked. “Fucking come for me, _please_ ,” you plead, your hands on either side of his face, lips just barely brushing against his. “C'mon, Sammy,” you gasp, “Cover me in that big load, baby.”  
  
“Fuck!” Sam roars, moaning so vehemently for you, hips pounding towards his long awaited release. He soon brings them to a screeching halt when he pulses with warning inside you, pulling out with just enough time to strip his cock a few times before decorating your pussy, belly, and tits in thick, milky-white strings of come that are warm on your sweat-slick skin.   
  
You moan through a prideful smile, rubbing at your clit where his spunk covered it like a trophy after a big win. You press a few Sam-soaked fingers into your stretched pussy, giving the camera that’s traveling down the length of your torso a nice view. You hum a happy noise as you trail your free hand up your belly and through the space between your breasts, collecting some come on your fingers and sliding them into your mouth, smirking around the digits as you look into the camera zoned in on your face. You don’t care that your hair’s a mess or that your mascara is smudged from where a few tears of ecstasy had earlier fallen. All you care about is the ache between your thighs and the way Sam watches you play with his come, all panting breath and dimpled grin of satisfaction as he sits back on the couch like he just ran a marathon.   
  
You give the camera a playful wink and a blow it a kiss—your signature move.  
  
“And cut!” Donovan shouts as he steps onto set clapping. “And that, my friends, is how it’s fucking done.” He gives the camera guys pats on the back and talks excitedly about the scene. _Pure gold_ is what you’re sure he says, but you’re too exhausted to really care.   
  
Penny and Tiffany jog onto set with towels, water, and your robe. “Let me,” Sam gives Tiffany a sweet smile as he grabs a towel from her hands. He gets to his knees and hovers over you, gently dragging the soft fabric over your skin where his come has started to go cold and tacky. You start laughing for whatever reason, a slew of uncontrollable giggles that can’t be explained. Sam just shakes his head and chuckles as he continues to clean you up.  
  
“I think I broke her,” he jokes with Penny.   
  
“She’s just extremely come-drunk,” Penny explains as she hands Sam your robe. “She’ll be fine once we get some water and pizza in her system."   
  
"Pepperoni,” you murmur as you sit up with a goofy grin, arms moving like rubber as Sam helps you into the robe. “Extra cheese, _please_."   
  
"Aaaand you’re rhyming,” Penny chuckles. “C'mon, Miss Doomore,” she says as she helps you stand on wobbly legs. “Let’s get you in a nice, _hot_ bath while I order your pizza."   
  
"Can Sam come, too?” You giggle, “He deserves it after _that_ fuck-a-thon.”  
  
Sam wraps the extra towel Tiffany gives him around his waist. “I think I’ll let you come down first,” he laughs, placing a hand on your lower back and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “Go get cleaned up,” he says in a quiet voice, “I’ll be here when you get done."   
  
You nod and let Penny drag you away towards the bathroom, Tiffany following behind with way to many makeup wipes.   
  
” _Bitch_ ,“ Tiffany gushes as you strip naked and get into the jacuzzi tub, "I think that was your best scene _yet_! If you don’t win an AVN for that, I’m boycotting."   
  
"Thanks, Tiff,” you chuckle as you let yourself sink down into the hot water, your already-sore muscles singing with gratitude. “Dude, Sam’s a fucking monster,” you giggle, “My poor vagina is _humming_ right now."   
  
"Ugh!” Tiffany glowers as she works to get your ruined makeup off. “Quit rubbing it in my face,” she grins. “I _wish_ I could fuck the caliber of dudes you get to work with.”  
  
“Easy,” you shrug with a lazy smile, “Just become a porn star." 


End file.
